


Bringing Change

by LadyAndHerCat



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: CC-2224 | Cody Has Issues, CC-2224 | Cody Needs a Hug, Gen, Maybe Fix-it, Not Beta Read, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, POV CC-2224 | Cody, POV Mace Windu, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Protective CC-2224 | Cody, Qui-Gon Jinn’s C- Parenting, Time Travel, it depends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28573185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAndHerCat/pseuds/LadyAndHerCat
Summary: The sudden appearance of a strange, white-armored man in the Council chamber was definitely what you would call unexpected.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & Anakin Skywalker, CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 217
Kudos: 663





	1. Mace Windu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: not gonna write this not gonna write this not gonna write this. 
> 
> Me: ... alright fine. But I’m not posting til it’s complete! 
> 
> Me: ... welp

Cody came to awareness in an instant. Where was he? Why was he here? He shouldn’t be here. He was dying, why was he here? Heart pounding in his chest, he scrambled to put his back to a wall. He scrabbled at the release for his awful stormtrooper helmet, tossing the thrice-damned thing away from him as soon as he could. 

He sat there, heart racing, hands shaking, trying to regulate his breathing, trying to ignore the dead people all around him. How was he still alive? How was he here? He had been dying, finally joining his brothers long since past, he had been ready to die for years, why wasn’t he dead? 

Why was he here? 

Distantly, he registered that he said that last bit aloud. Maybe they would know and they could tell him. After all, he thought, only slightly hysterically, they were supposed to be dead too. Order 66 killed them all. They killed them all, him and his brothers. 

The familiar circle of chairs he hadn’t seen in years, some faces unfamiliar, some he recognized—he was steadfastly ignoring the too-young face by the door, standing with an unfamiliar General ( _they weren’t Generals anymore—_ ) instead of in his own chair ( _where he belonged—_ ). 

He was dead, he was dead, he couldn’t be here. ( _He didn’t want to kill his General again, he couldn’t—)_. 

Breathe. Don’t think. Ignore him. 

“Sir? Sir, are you alright?” No no no, anyone but him, he could handle anyone but _him._ He hid his face in his hands, so he couldn’t see him. He might just fall apart completely. 

* * *

The... sudden appearance of a strange man in the middle of the Council meeting completely derailed Qui-gon Jinn’s little speech about Skywalker and that karking Chosen One prophecy. The Will of the Force, his left foot. That man was as bullheaded as any bantha, and good luck getting him to change his mind. He pitied Kenobi having to deal with him every day. 

The strange, Force-summoned man, in armor of all things, was much more interesting than Qui-gon’s latest mess. Even if he was spawning so many shatterpoints just looking at him was giving Mace a headache. 

The man, clearly freaked out, shucked the helmet as quickly as he could, tossing it away like it was made of sand vipers. A large scar curled around one eye. 

“Why am I here?” 

Not asking _where_ he was, just why. The logical assumption there being that he knew where he was. Not many non-Jedi entered the Temple, let alone the Council chamber. 

“Sir? Sir, are you alright?” Given that the man was on the verge on a panic attack, that would be a solid no, Kenobi. 

What was interesting was the man’s reaction to the Padawan’s question. He curled up on himself, hiding his face, avoiding eye contact. In the Force, he could feel the panic spike. Hiding from the question or hiding from Kenobi? 

“No no no, I can’t be here, I can’t be here, why am I here?” Mace wondered if the man even recognized that he was speaking aloud. The man’s panic continued to spread in the Force, followed closely by grief. Whoever he was, he had lost a great deal. 

“Where are you supposed to be?” Plo Koon, ever so gentle and kind, asked. Plo could get away with murder if he wanted to. 

“Dead,” the man answered automatically. So, dead or dying, before the Force brought him here. While the man’s stark white armor was scuffed and damaged, nothing was obviously a death wound. 

Padawan Kenobi was moving towards to man, the Force sending ripples of his concentration and confusion, though his face only showed a furrow between his brows. 

“Padawan—“ Jinn tried to warn his padawan away from the _unknown man_ , but Kenobi was already crouching down in front of him. The man did not react. A few moments passed, just like that. 

“Cody,” Padawan Kenobi announced confidently. Then he promptly collapsed. Now that got a reaction. There was a spike of panic from Jinn and a wave of concern from most of the council. He included himself among them. Padawan Kenobi was very endearing. 

But most unexpected was the man’s—Cody’s?—reaction. Sure, there was an initial flood of panic and concern, but it was... suppressed, for lack of a better word, by what seemed like habit. 

( _Was his name Cody? How would Kenobi know? Was Kenobi’s vision—and it was clearly a vision to any trained Force-sensitive—related to whatever Force shenanigan brought the man here?)_

The man yanked off his gloves, checked Kenobi’s breathing and pulse, before examining him. He discovered a wound on his forearm, wrapped and treated, which actually _increased_ the concern radiating from him, followed by two lightsaber burns on his torso, untreated, at which his concern abated. The man carefully covered the wounds with bacta patches from his belt and, seemingly satisfied with the health of the Padawan, leaned him up against the wall, before positioning himself in front of the collapsed Padawan like a guard. 

The was no hesitation to his movements. He either had medical training, or a lot of field experience. A lot of field experience with people collapsing from wounds who would need to be protected. Intriguing, if slightly concerning. 

Jinn, perhaps emboldened by the man’s response to his Padawan’s approach and subsequent collapse, chose then to approach the man as well. Which was, honestly, probably an even worse idea. The man was leaning on experiences clearly gained in a hostile environment, likely increasing the chances of a hostile response to an unknown factor approaching. 

Also, the man’s obviously protective stance over Kenobi. Mace doubted he would let anyone he didn’t trust close enough to touch the kid. Jinn really could be quite obtuse at times. 

As Mace expected, the man started growling as soon as Jinn got anywhere near what could be construed as ‘close’. Well. Maybe not quite expected. As a Jedi, Mace probably shouldn’t be amused at the prospect of Jinn getting punched in the face. As satisfying as it would be. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to make sure my Padawan is okay,” Jinn attempted to reassure him. 

“He’s alright. I checked.” The borderline dissociation the man was using to keep his panic from overwhelming him probably wasn’t very healthy. 

“It would make me feel better if I could check on him myself. If I could just—“ 

“No. Don’ know you,” he growled. 

“But—“ 

“No. He’s fine. Jus’ Force stuff.” 

The man had been around enough Force-sensitives for long enough to tell? Who? It couldn’t have been a Jedi, the Council would’ve gotten a report. That was... hmm. He wasn’t quite sure what that was.

“Is Mr. Obi-wan alright?” Ah. Skywalker. Skywalker, at least, didn’t try to approach the unknown man. Perhaps this one had common sense. Maybe. Possibly. Mace could hope.

It was possible the man would react better to a youngling. A youngling would more likely fall under a _to-be-protected_ category instead of _potential-threat_. But Mace would never bring a youngling into a potentially dangerous situation. Unlike _some_ people he could name. 

“Yeah, he’s alright,” the man’s response to Skywalker was considerably gentler. 

“You said Force stuff did this. Why?” 

“The Force needed to show him some things, so it made him sleep for a little bit. He’ll wake up again when he’s seen it all.” That... was actually a really good explanation. He’s heard very similar ones when visiting the crèche. 

“Is your name really Cody?” The man flinched away from that question and his panic swelled in the Force. It took him a few moments push his panic back and answer the question. 

“Yes.” 

* * *

It took some time to convince the man— _Cody_ —to bring Padawan Kenobi to the infirmary. Well, it actually took very little convincing. Most of the time was spent... negotiating the logistics of the journey. Who knew it could be so complicated? 

In the end, Cody carried Kenobi to the healing halls, accompanied by Anakin Skywalker and Plo Koon. 

There was now a pile of armor in the Council room, as Cody stripped off his upper armor before taking Kenobi to the healers, seemingly for the comfort of the Padawan. 

The armor had clearly seen a lot of use, yet the man was more than willing to leave it behind. Was it not his armor?

And why was Mace contemplating the man’s attachment to his armor? Well, because Mace was stuck in said Council chambers listening to the rest of the Council debate about Cody’s sudden appearance and what it means, as well as Qui-gon attempting to convince them to let Skywalker be his padawan. 

Really, it was like herding loth-cats sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta, if there’s a mistake let me know. Please tell me what you think, I take constructive criticism.


	2. Cody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking Care of Your Jedi 101, by Commander Cody: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought I had this written and was ready to post it... and then I started messing with it and it doubled in length... so here we are, finally.

They got young, not-General Kenobi set up in a room in no time—a single room too, even though his condition wasn’t serious. It had been much more cramped during the war.

The medic checked Kenobi, and then him, even though he insisted he was fine—but not too insistent, he at least knew better than to argue with a medic—and then the little Jedi shiny, who was actually Anakin Skywalker.

When he was done freaking out about not-a-General Kenobi, maybe he could worry about Skywalker and the fact that he had a kriffing slave chip.

He lost himself for a bit there, he didn’t know for how long, and when he came back to himself, General Koon and the medic had left.

And Skywalker was watching him.

“Are you listening now? You weren’t before, I could tell. Jira who lived down the street, she did that sometimes. Mom called it dis-soc-iating,” he sounded out the word carefully. He clearly had some time to think about this. He must have been out of it for a while, then.

He jerked his head in a nod to assure the kid that, yes, he was listening now.

Who was supposed to be watching the kid? Kenobi was still out, Koon had left, the strange General had stayed with the Council—wait, it wasn’t him, was it?

The Jedi did dumb things sometimes, but surely they wouldn’t leave a shiny in the care of a man they just met, even if they could feel intentions in the Force.

General Koon was just busy, he decided, and would be back soon. This was just temporary.

...didn’t the Jedi start younger than this? If he was a slave before...

“Are you a Jedi?”

Wait, what?

“No. Uh—no.”

Shouldn’t the kid be able to tell? If he really was new to the Order, how much did he really know?

Oh stars, he could be worse than shinies straight off Kamino. And Jedi were completely oblivious to their... Jedi-ness, they wouldn’t think to explain it. Kriff.

He had to give the shiny speech to not-even-a-Commander Skywalker. And probably the take-care-of-yourself speech he gives to the CCs. Bits of the take-care-of-your-squad speech could be helpful too...

Well then. No time like the present.

“You’re gonna join the Jedi, yeah?”

“Mm-hm! That’s why Mr. Qui-gon had to talk to the Council people.” Ah, that must be the strange General from before. The name seemed familiar, too. He’d have to think about it later, though.

“And you’ve probably heard lots of stories about all the cool things they can do.”

“Yeah! They’re super wizard!”

“But what the stories don’t tell you... is that all Jedi are self-sacrificing idiots. Some of them might pretend to be reasonable and sensible, but then you turn around and they’re skipping meals and hiding injuries.”

Now Skywalker seemed... confused. But he would understand.

“And I’m here to teach you everything you need to know about taking care of your Jedi.”

* * *

“Number one: food. 

“Contrary to what most Jedi will tell you, using the Force takes a lot of energy. The official recommendation for near-human species is three full meals a day, even without the Force, but many Jedi don’t even eat that much. A good goal to aim for is two meals a day, but the more food you can get your Jedi to eat, the better. Carrying around snacks is an excellent strategy for this. 

“Many Jedi also respond well to guilt-trips. Say that you got it special _just for them_ and they’ll fold like wet flimsi. 

“Some Jedi will claim that the Force sustains them. Do not let them get away with it. What they mean when they say that is that they are pushing all their feelings into the Force, so they cannot _tell_ when they are tired or hungry or in pain. This is a very bad habit and should be discouraged whenever possible. 

“And Kenobi here is one of the worst of the lot. He’ll try to live off of tea and meditation instead of real food and actual sleep. Guilt tripping is an especially effective strategy for him. Just imply that you went out of your way to eat a meal with him or something and he’s much more likely to eat a full meal.”

Speaking of food, though... he had no idea when the last time Skywalker ate was. As a slave, he likely wasn’t used to having enough food... and good habits start early. Yeah, he decided, that was a good idea. 

“Are you hungry? We should go get food.” 

He didn’t give the kid time to answer, just herded him out of the room, told the medic at the desk where they were going, and set off. 

He was halfway there when he realized, he wasn’t headed to the closest commissary, but the one that... that most of the clones went to. 

His steps faltered and he almost turned around, but he had a goal, and a plan, and he couldn’t stop now. 

Besides, this one should be quieter, without them. 

It’d be less overwhelming for the kid.

* * *

The commissary was... different. 

Quieter, yes—it wasn’t one of the regular mealtimes.

There were a few clumps of people situated at round tables, instead of the long, narrow ones they used during the war to accommodate for the much larger clone population.

He quickened his steps towards the serving counter and tried to ignore the growing feeling of _not-right_. 

At the counter, he requested three late-meals to go and helped little Skywalker pick out human-edible foods for mid-meal. 

They sat at an empty table to eat and he let Skywalker chatter about what he thought were the coolest parts of the Temple and the tech he saw in medical. 

He was jittery and nervous the whole time, waiting for familiar voices and matching faces, the sound of armored boots on stone, of jokes and laughter instead of quiet serenity. He ate as quickly as he could. 

He dumped their trays at the end of the counter, snagged the containers of food for late-meal, and tried not to feel like he was running away. 

He took a shuddering breath and tried to focus on what the shiny version of Skywalker was saying. He didn’t want to have another episode, he needed to be _here and now_. He had to watch Skywalker and he had to be there when Gen—when _Kenobi_ woke up.

He measured his breaths and focused on where he was walking. He was going to medical with a tiny, child version of General Skywalker to visit a young, Padawan-Commander version of his General. 

...Maybe not that focused on what was going on. He didn’t need to go from borderline-dissociating to a full-on panic attack. 

He starts counting his steps, timing his breathing to them, letting Skywalker’s chatter wash over him. Present and here, without _thinking_ too much. 

He made the trip back to Kenobi’s room mostly by memory, but he could remember the journey mostly clearly, so that was good. 

They wait in Kenobi’s room a while, Skywalker sticking close to him. He gently encourages Skywalker to wait on tinkering with the device that came with the food boxes, in order to discover if it kept the food warm by heating it or holding it in stasis, until _after_ they had eaten. They wait a bit longer. 

General Koon steps in. 

“Hello again. I do hope I’m not interrupting anything?” Koon asks calmly. 

“No,” Anakin responds cheerfully, “We went to the kitchen and got food, and food for later too! The kitchen was really big and there was lots of kinds of food. I wanted to try everything, but Cody said that I couldn’t, because some of it is for other species, not humans.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed the dining hall, young Anakin,” Koon interrupts gently before Skywalker could keep going. “But the Council would like to speak with Cody now. We should be done before late-meal. Perhaps we could talk more afterwards? I’d like to hear more about what you think of the Temple.” 

“Okay,” Skywalker says, suddenly a bit shy, shuffling closer to Cody. Koon’s face crinkles around his goggles in an imitation of a smile. 

“Master Jinn will be down here soon to wait with you. Would you like us to wait until he’s here to leave?” Koon asks kindly. 

“No. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? It’s no problem. Master Jinn will be here soon, and the Council can wait a few minutes longer,” Koon presses gently. 

“I guess, if you’re sure... you can wait,” Skywalker answers hesitantly. 

“Thank you, young Anakin.”

It doesn’t take long at all. They only wait a couple minutes before the not-a-General practically barges in. He greets General Koon formally and Little Skywalker warmly, but he watches Cody with guarded eyes. 

Good. Maybe at least one Jedi has the sense not to trust a total stranger completely, just because the Force brought them here. Everyone else certainly seemed to act like Cody belonged here. 

Maybe this Council meeting would help him figure out why, exactly, he was here and what they expected of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned to have updated sooner but, well. Stuff happened. 
> 
> The council meeting thing kinda ambushed me. I mean, I wanted to do it at some point, but I had planned on finishing the Taking Care of Your Jedi bit first. And now I have to figure who would actually be on the council right now. 
> 
> Please tell me what you think, I am looking for constructive criticism.
> 
> 1/30/21 edit: guys, come on, _please_. I went through this chapter and found so many typos. ( _ ~~okay it was like four~~_.) I don’t have a beta here, I am begging you to _point these things out_. Even if it’s just a little thing. I want this story to be the best I can make it.


	3. The Council Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The council meeting. That’s straightforward right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to have this finished up and posted a week ago, but stuff happened. 
> 
> Online school is irritating and it takes twice as long to get any of it done as it usually would for me which is frustrating, especially when there’s these bits of precal that are _fun_ and _interesting_ and I know the _whole thing_ could be like that, but doing it all online is just so _irritating_. Stupid covid. By the time I’m done, I don’t want to sit at a computer another minute. 
> 
> Amd we had my aunt’s funeral (over zoom), which was just all around awful. I mean, she’d been sick for a long time and we all knew this was coming, but... yeah. That sucked.
> 
> So it was a while before I really had the energy for writing, but it’s done now.

Calm. Cody was calm. He had faced much worse in his life than the Council, even a strange Council that didn’t know him or have any reason to trust him. Sure, the clones were made for the Jedi, but these ones didn’t know that. These Jedi didn’t know that he and all of his brothers would follow them anywhere, do anything for them. 

They also don’t know what he did. What all of his brothers did. Ten years since Order 66 went out and he still dreams about that day every night. The _helplessness_ as he ordered _his General_ shot down, because _good soldiers follow orders_. 

For _ten years_ , that mantra was his life. He couldn’t act , couldn’t stop, couldn’t _think_ except for that.

Every Senator, every reporter, every angry citizen that called them _meat-droids_ was right. In the end, none of the clones had a choice. At any moment, they could be ordered to turn against those that trusted them and cared for them—and they would do it. Because they had _no choice_. 

And he remembered all of those ten horrible, awful years. The clones were designed to have excellent memory, to catch every detail, and those _damned_ chips only affected their ability to make decisions. 

He recalled, about a month after Order 66 went live, a conversation between two officers, not highly ranked or anything, just sharing gossip, about how somebody somewhere tried turning off the chips in a battalion of clones. The whole battalion went nuts, they said, completely breaking down screaming and crying or just straight-up eating their blasters. They had to put down the whole battalion. That’s what they said. 

The him that heard that conversation, in the room yet completely ignored, didn’t react, _couldn’t_ react. But here, now, outside of the chip’s control—he knew why they did that. He understood. They remembered every _single_ thing they were forced to do. He remembered every single thing too. 

Clones didn’t get the easy jobs, you see. They got the jobs that any normal, _real_ person who had a _choice_ would refuse to do. 

Maybe, after all this was over and nobody needed him anymore, he could come back to that and pick one for himself.

He shook himself out of his thoughts. They were within sight of the council room doors now and he couldn’t afford to be distracted.

General Koon paused in front of the doors and looked at him. “Are you ready?” He asked kindly. 

Cody took a breath, straightened his shoulders, and nodded. 

Koon opened the doors and they stepped through. Koon took his seat in the circle of chairs and Cody walked to the middle of the room, falling into a proper parade stance. 

Prepared and... in a better frame of mind than before, he took note of the Council members he didn’t recognize. A small green being that looked to be the same species as General Yoda—therefore not to be underestimated and should be watched for troll-ish behaviors—and a long-necked being that reminded him of the Kaminoans. 

All the chairs are full. During the war, there was rarely more than two or three members on Coruscant, most of them calling in from their positions on the front. It felt... more formal, this way. It was probably intimidating to most people, especially with stern faces like General Windu—but it was hard to be intimidated by Windu when Cody had witnessed him with General Kenobi, completely drunk off his ass after the death of Commander Ponds. Or when he knew Koon cried over sappy romance holonovels.

After living through a war with most of them, he knew and witnessed hundreds of things that made the Jedi _people_ that, admittedly, were very bad at taking care of themselves, not just mythical figures with unbelievable powers. It made it hard to be intimidated by them now. 

“Cody. Do you have a last name?” Windu asks, with the tenseness around his eyes that meant he had a headache. 

“No, sir.” That was the truth. He legally didn’t even have a first name. The clones weren’t citizens of the Republic, and the GAR registry only contained their serial numbers.

“Do you know what caused your... trip?” General Mundi asks. 

“No, sir,” he shrugs. “We were on campaign—“ more like a _rout_ , really, “—and I got shot. Pretty sure I was dying. Next thing I know, I was here.”

“And where were you before?” General Eeth Koth asks. 

“Some mudball planet in the Outer Rim, sir,” he shrugs again. “They don’t bother telling the stormtroopers where they’re going. Doesn’t matter when most of us are just gonna end up dead, you see.” He heard several sharp breaths after that little tidbit. 

“Stormtroopers?” Windu again. 

“Cannon fodder. The ones they have a use for get better armor.” He had a right to be bitter. They killed his brothers, just threw their lives away like sand in a desert.

And him. They killed him too. 

“Have anything more to tell us, do you?” General Yoda asks.

“Yes, sir. I’m in the past.” That got a choked sort of sound from Windu and Koth, and a disgruntled “hmph” from the other little green being. 

“Oh dear,” the long-necked one said in a light, airy voice, and he fought the urge to snicker. He had to find humor where he could, because the rest of this conversation was _not_ going to be fun. 

“What makes you say that?” Windu asks once he’s recovered. 

Well, might as well get it out of the way. 

“Because all of you are dead.” Shocked silence. The grief and guilt and pain wells up in him.

“When you say all of us...” Koon tries to ask.

“All the Jedi,” he confirms. “I’m sure some survived... every now and then they hold a public execution...” He... he doesn’t know what else to say. For a moment, he imagines feeling their grief and pain in the Force. Would it be a comfort knowing that others felt like they did, cared like they did, or would it just compound their grief? He pretends his hands aren’t trembling. 

“What... what happened?” Windu manages. 

“Order Sixty-Six,” he forces out. He’s sure they feel every bit of his guilt in the Force. They won’t want him here after this, after they know what he’s _done_. Maybe they’ll be merciful and kill him. His hands come up to grip his shoulders and he closes his eyes, tries to imagine that it’s Kenobi or one of his brothers in front of him. 

“Control chips,” his voice is barely above a whisper. He’s shaking all over now. “In our heads. Couldn’t stop. Couldn’t _stop_.” They aren’t going to trust him now. They _shouldn’t_ trust him. They should lock him up and never let him out. 

“Didn’t want to kill him,” he gasps. “I didn’t want to. Please—“ his voice breaks and he can’t keep going. He can’t even open his eyes and see the distrust and the anger he knows must be there. _Coward_. He did this and he can’t even look them in the face when he tells them. 

He falls to his knees because he’s shaking so bad. He tries to breathe without openly sobbing and mostly fails. “He’s dead. I killed him. He’s dead, he’s _dead_.” 

He looks up and meets Windu’s gaze, shock and grief and horror warring on his usually stoic face. 

“Please,” he begs. “Please. Get this chip _out of my head_.

* * *

They do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On an unrelated note, while I was finishing this up, it started hailing. Like a _lot_. And we have a metal roof, so it’s pretty loud. Anyways, my cat is wandering around trying to figure out where the heck the noise is coming from with this wide-eyed, shocked expression and i felt it was vital that all of you know this. 
> 
> Anyways, tell me what you think. I’m always looking for things to improve so some constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.
> 
> Also, I got a Tumblr. Same username. Now what do I do with it? Seriously, help.


	4. Obi-wan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-wan wakes up. Cody gets a hug. Other things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments on the previous chapters! I appreciate every single one of them. Special thanks to those of you who gave suggestions, advice, and/or feedback. I am always looking for things to work on in my writing. 
> 
> I promise that we will finish the Taking Care of Your Jedi 101 lecture by Commander Cody. The plot kind of ambushed me and things got a little too heavy to just jump right back in.
> 
> I tried to have organized updates, but nothing about my life is organized right now, so that didn't work too well. I'm tenatively planning on an update in roughly two weeks, because it turns out every week is not enough time for me, but I'm drifting through fandoms at the moment, so we'll see how long that lasts.
> 
> I spent half of my free time this month writing a completely unrelated one-shot because I just could not get it out of my head, and I honestly was kinda stuck with this. I knew where I wanted it to go, but the stuff between here and there just would not fit, and I had this one shot for a different fandom in my head that actually wanted to be written, so I wrote that in hopes that it would help me get _un_ stuck here. And writing something is better than writing nothing, right? 
> 
> So anyways, here it is, finally, sorry it’s late.

Plo Koon was meditating in the Room of a Thousand Fountains in one of his favorite spots. After that Council meeting, he thought it best to take some time to clear his mind. He watches the little, brown-white Coruscanti sparrows flit and chatter among the small grove of Xiranian red alder. 

While not an overly large flock, there was easily twenty to thirty small birds scattered among the branches, picking at the seed pods, yet there was always some in motion, hopping from branch to branch. A constant, unpredictable motion. Occasionally, a sparrow would land at the end of a branch and the weight of the bird would bend the twig so far the bird would hang upside down, completely unbothered while it pecks for seeds. 

The Xiranian red alder are outwardly unremarkable, their mottled grey-brown limbs currently leafless, dormant in the artificial winter of this level, but the wood itself was reddish-orange and had a tendency to stain. They would also be among the first to bud out when the scheduled spring came, their leaves a bright, cheerful green. 

Green was one of the few colors that were not distorted by his protective tinted lenses. Purples and blues were washed to grey, reds to a muted brown, but yellow and green he could see. The green was his favorite though. 

But Plo was drifting, instead of focusing.

Plo had accompanied Cody and a few other Council members to the healing halls, but when the healers began arguing rather fiercely, they decided it was time to make a tactical retreat, and save any further questions until _after_ Cody was released from the healing halls. 

Until then, Plo was meditating. Mostly. He was finding it unusually difficult, though maybe that should have been expected. Cody’s story was troubling, frightening, and thoroughly heartbreaking, but completely impossible to disbelieve. 

Cody’s grief and guilt and pain was nearly overwhelming. The poor man was clearly blaming himself, which was understandable, but it wasn’t his fault when he wasn’t in control of his body. And while his deeds may have been undone by his... _time travel_ , that only meant that Cody carried those memories alone. 

He should ask him about arranging mindhealer appointments, or perhaps a civilian therapist, if Cody would prefer that. 

But that matter would have to wait. Cody would be in the healing halls for a yet undetermined amount of time, and he had a meditation to finish.

Perhaps, when he has finished, he will ask Mace for a spar.

* * *

Cody woke up from the surgery not even two hours after he went under. Apparently, after they _found_ the damn thing, the chip was actually fairly easy to remove. 

There had been some... heated debates between the medics about the removal of the chip. Where was it, how long has it been there, is it possible to safely remove it, would simply frying it be a better option, and so on. The arguments—that is, the _discussions_ took longer than the actual surgery did, but even those resolved themselves fairly quickly after the brain scans came in. 

He ran a hand over the bandage, just to check. It felt almost... _unreal_. He didn’t physically feel any different, though the anesthesia had him a little woozy still and the painkillers made everything feel a bit numb, but the _relief_ at having it out felt like a heavy load lifted off his shoulders. 

He took a shaky breath and blinked away the tears in his eyes, clenching his hands to try and still their trembling. He had mostly composed himself when Skywalker walks in. 

“The nice healer lady said I could see you after you woke up. Mr. Obi-wan woke up too and the healers are making sure he’s okay,” he says. He hesitates before continuing. “Did the really take it out?” he asks more quietly. 

“Yeah. Yeah, they really did.” He twists his head around to show him the bandage. “See?”

Skywalker approaches him slowly, reaching up to touch it with something like wonder in his eyes. 

“You. You just—asked? And they took it out?” He nods, and waits. 

“Do... do you think... they would take mine out? If I asked?” The kid looks at him with so much _hope_. 

“Yeah, kid. I think they would.”

* * *

So now Skywalker is holding his hand while one of the medics remove the slave chip from his leg. This particular medic had been so appalled that no one had removed his slave chip yet that she rushed to get everything set up in yet another room and never actually introduced herself. This was a shame because he wanted to know who to ask for the next time Skywalker gets sent to the medbay. 

She explained every step of what she was doing and was very understanding about letting Skywalker watch her take it out. After she was finished, she uses to Force to heal the wound until there was just a thin scar. 

She leaves to get cleaned up and Skywalker throws himself into his arms and starts to cry. Cody hadn’t comforted somebody in years, but he spent years before that taking care of his brothers. He wraps his arms around the kid and let him cry.

“It’s alright, kid, it’s alright,” he soothes. “Let it all out. It’s okay.” 

Skywalker cries for a while, but he’s settled down to mostly sniffles by the time Kenobi wanders in. Kenobi’s hair is comically mussed, sticking up all over the place, especially since Kenobi tries so hard to be composed even now. He’s probably mortified about passing out in front of the whole Council. 

He feels only a little betrayed when Skywalker immediately lets go of him to run over and give Kenobi a hug. Only a little, because clearly Kenobi does not get enough hugs. 

Kenobi looks surprised and a little uncomfortable, but awkwardly pats Skywalker’s back. It is mildly amusing, but also a bit sad how startled Kenobi is. Cody offers up an escape he so clearly was looking for. 

“Have you eaten yet, Gen—Padawan Kenobi,“ not a General, not a Commander, not anything. Yet. 

“Oh, the food!” Skywalker hastily releases Kenobi and herds him over to sit on the bed next to Cody before he rushes off. 

Kenobi sits on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with his hands and not quite meeting his eyes. The differences between him and General Kenobi are painfully obvious.

“Hello, Cody,” he greets hesitantly. Cody’s heart squeezes in his chest. He sounds so _young_. He looks like he’s maybe twelve—except nat-borns don’t age as fast. Roughly twenty-four, then? They’re almost the same age, and yet Kenobi looks so... so innocent. Not yet aged by grief and war. 

Was he more reckless now, worse at taking care of himself? Or was he not as used to overworking himself and sacrificing sleep and food yet? He would have to watch hem closely, see what’s changed and hasn’t changed. If he was lucky, he could head off some of the bad habits before they start. 

It almost felt like hope.

* * *

He felt awkward sitting here with Cody. But there was this part of him that insisted that it was _Cody_ , it shouldn’t be awkward. 

His visions had been confusing, mixed up and jumbled together. Images of hundreds of men with the same face, with _Cody’s_ face, standing in front of Qui-gon’s pyre, little Anakin grown up and Knighted, sparring with a young Togruta that he just _knew_ was Anakin’s Padawan. 

Looking out across endless, endless sand, feeling old and exhausted, but knowing he _wasn’t done yet_. Answers to questions he hadn’t asked and secrets belonging to people he didn’t know. 

He... probably should have told his master when the visions started, but he would have just gotten another lecture about the _here and now_ and assigned more meditation. And it’s not like Qui-hon could _do_ anything about the visions, anyways. 

This last vision had been clearer, though, but not _clear_. Commander Cody— _and why did he know Cody was a Commander?_ —standing at his side, looking much younger than he did now, but knowing that he trusted him implicitly, with his life, his lightsaber, his Padawan—except he didn’t have a Padawan. 

_Yet_ , part of him whispered, _not yet_. 

But by far the worst part of his visions was this. Falling, and feeling everyone he cared about die. Thousands of lives lost, little distant stars snuffed out. But _millions_ of lives just... muted. Not gone, but _blank_ and so, so empty. Falling, falling, looking up through the water and not knowing if he was crying or not. _Infinite Sadness_. 

It was strange and confusing and painful, so painful. He trusted this older Cody, but he didn’t know why. He knew Qui-gon was going to die, but he didn’t know how. And when he looked at Anakin, he felt grief and pain and _not-good-enough_. 

But Anakin pops back in with four boxes, the kind the commissary uses for food, trailed by Qui-gon and the healer who had checked him over when he first woke up, a near-human with long, naturally purple hair done up in a sensible bun and silvery face markings

“I was grabbing the food but I ran into Mr. Qui-gon and he wanted to eat with us so we went to get another food box and when we got back the nice healer lady found us and she came because she needed to check on Mr. Cody,” he chatters, passing around food boxes and utensils and napkins while the purple-haired healer bustles over to Cody. 

She had been efficient and no-nonsense with him, too. She had never actually introduced herself to him before she left for some other essential task, either. She checks Cody’s wounds and asks questions about lucidity and memory curtly, not an uncommon trait in experienced healers. At least, in _Jedi_ healers. But Cody seems used to it, so maybe it’s universal? She bustles off again shortly. The not-introducing-herself thing seemed to be a habit.

Anakin and Qui-gon have already started eating while Obi-wan was distracted, Anakin chattering about thing he had seen in the Temple so far. Cody had gotten his food box out now, but held his fork poised over his food, watching Obi-wan. Like he was waiting, but...

 _Oh_ , he was waiting for _him_ start eating. He quickly shoves a bit in his mouth, and sure enough, Cody starts eating too. Oh, it was probably a cultural thing and Obi-wan had just been unforgivably rude or something. Qui-gon doesn’t want him anymore, he passed out in front of the _whole Council_ , and now he’s offended Cody, whom he trusts and who trusts him. He thinks. The memories— _visions_ seemed to think so. Just what he needs today. 

Cody was watching him again, fork full but not eating. He glances at Obi-wan’s full plate of food and back at him, something gently reproving in his gaze. Like the look Bant gives him when she knows he skipped a meal. Obi-wan occupies himself with his plate, taking a second bite. Cody takes his own bite, still watching him. 

He takes another bite and Cody... matches him. Bite for bite. 

Cody was only eating as much food as Obi-wan was. But why? The healers kept chastising him about his eating habits, but this couldn’t be a blatant attempt to get him to eat more... could it? 

A part of him sulks childishly about emotional manipulation and underhanded healers, but... he couldn’t keep Cody from his own food, even if Obi-wan didn’t really feel like eating. He groans internally, and takes another bite. 

Cody matches him and he wonders if the Force was laughing at him right now, because it sure felt like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned up having this be from Obi-wan’s pov. I even named to chapter for that. But I just could not get Obi’s pov to go anywhere. So I tried a bit of Plo’s pov and got mostly irrelevant fluff, narrowly avoiding a tangent on alder trees. Then I try Cody’s pov and suddenly I have half a chapter. I persevered and got some obi pov to post, so good enough I guess.
> 
> The ending feels rough, but again, tired and done. 
> 
> And yes I did give the healer a bad habit of not introducing herself so that I didn’t have to come up with a name for her. Yes, she is the same healer who took out anakin’s chip. Yes, it is lazy of me, but it’s late and I’m tired. 
> 
> I kept trying to think of things I could give her completely made up species and then realizing, oh wait, Jedi can already do that.
> 
> EDIT: I will update after finals are done, I promise!


End file.
